Picking Up the Pieces in Kabul

Call to prayer music rattles my guesthouse long before sunrise. Fight dogs spat warning growls from a nearby pen. Military helicopters whir overhead as they shepherd American and Afghan officials above the jutting mountains, a safer route than the often bombed city streets of Kabul. These are the first sounds of morning. Each day, I wake in a discreetly located home above a tucked away girl’s school. In order to glimpse a snapshot of daily life, I have foregone the guesthouses catered to foreigners with blast walls and armed guards. Even with robust fortification, many are closing due to attacks and kidnappings. The trick is to blend in, to stay invisible. Full story here.